


when the tide comes

by AnastasiaYu



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Horror, If you read the end notes there's something, Other, Short, Supernatural - Freeform, but I don't think that counts as a proper happy ending, but not very sweet, kind of, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnastasiaYu/pseuds/AnastasiaYu
Summary: the disappearance of ryan bergara.





	when the tide comes

**Author's Note:**

> (2/15/19) it’s been a while since I wrote this and I still feel weird about writing rpf, but I just can’t bear to delete this

**day 0**

The last time you see Ryan Bergara, it's Christmas Eve.

**day 1**

The next day, you receive a call from his girlfriend. She's frantic, almost in tears. Ryan never made it to her house. You consider this for a moment, and tell her you'll go check his apartment. He did drink a lot last night. Maybe, you say, he went home first and fell asleep. 

You know that's not what happened.

*

When you reach his front door, you begin to wonder why you were given a spare key, and Ryan's partner of nine months was not. 

Shaking your head, you step in. 

Immediately, there's a coldness that you've never felt before. The jacket he was wearing the day before is hanging on the wall beside you, and you sigh with relief. Maybe he really did get drunk. Maybe he's in his bedroom or living room, passed out while his friends are panicking.

A part of you knows he is not.

As you enter the kitchen, you feel eyes on you, unblinking. That's impossible though. There is nothing but the birds perched on the trees outside. 

*

There was no one in Ryan Bergara’s apartment. 

His shoes, his keys, and even his phone were all there. But he was not. 

There are no signs of forced entry, and nothing is missing. You check his room, and find passport, birth certificate, and other important documents safe where they should be. You do not question why you know exactly where these things are meant to be when even his girlfriend does not..

California state law allows you to file a missing persons report at any time. You do just that.

**day 3**

Your coworkers now know that Ryan Bergara is not where he is supposed to be. You don't dwell on the fact that you think he is meant to be right by your side. 

They all share worried looks and offer you what they think are comforting words.

You don't hear them. Actually, you barely hear anything over the static, the fuzzy sounds that seem to be coming from beneath the ground.

You almost hear his voice calling out to you, but it is in a language you could never hope to understand.

*

Someone finally decides that the stress is getting to you. They send you home, and you go without much argument. 

You go despite the fact that there is a growing dark spot in the corner of your bedroom ceiling. It's been there since Christmas Eve. 

**day 5**

The police have yet to find anything. Really. They say it doesn't make any sense. The security cameras don't catch Ryan even entering the building. There is no way he would have been able to bring his clothing back to his room. There are no clues as to why he is gone. No clues hinting at where he might be. 

No clues except the birds singing a mourning song outside of your own kitchen window. But you know the officers won't accept that as evidence.

They never do. 

**day 7**

Ryan Bergara has been missing for seven days.

**day 11**

His girlfriend doesn't know what to do. She is always crying, always pitiful. But she talks to you sometimes . You're sure she is telling you about her holiday plans, the things she had planned to do with Ryan. Your Ryan. 

But not yours, never yours.

You listen to her, but all you can hear is static. It sounds like his voice, and he is crying. 

**day 17**

It has passed the two week mark. Tomorrow there is a video you were meant to film with him. You tell your crew you can't do it. Not without him.

They nod and smile sadly, as if they already knew. Of course they knew. 

You are a part of another video, something about French food and cupcakes.

**day 27**

She is inconsolable, and you think there is something that has broken inside her. 

Like teacups, like porcelain. She is beautiful, but so so fragile. Sometimes she looks like a being made of silk, of delicate lace and soft dove feathers.

She has always been a wonderful girlfriend. You can understand why Ryan adores her.

You, on the other hand. You are just a bit too tall, words sometimes laced with a bit too much acid. You are unyielding. There has never been a time when you willingly let your best friend win an argument, a debate, a bet. 

It must have been almost frustrating for him.

You catch yourself wondering why he even bothered with you. 

But insecurity is not who you are, so you brush it aside as easily as you sweep up the broken plates you dropped on his kitchen floor. 

**day 30**

Ryan Bergara has been missing for a month.

**day 31**

Buzzfeed Unsolved has officially ended.

**day 35**

You go to his apartment everyday, with or without her. Each time, you read the messages fans have been sending. You hope he is listening. 

*

You know you meant something to him. The way his hands always lingered a few seconds longer than necessary. The way his eyes lit up when he saw you from across the room, the hallway, the street. The moments when he stuck to your side during your haunted explorations. The moments that felt like an unspoken confession.

You were important to him, but to you, he was the sun. 

**day 42**

You want to scream. The TV is broken despite the fact that you bought it just last week. There is nothing but static, and when you touch it, it feels like a lingering presence.

You pretend you can't hear his voice.

**day 43**

There are still birds outside your window. Almost like they are following you. But that's impossible. 

**day 52**

Valentine's Day is hard for both you and the girlfriend he left behind. There's nothing you can do for her except hold her hair back as she releases her lunch into the toilet. 

*

Empty bottles of every alcoholic beverage imaginable lay scattered around your living room. Maybe. You are likely exaggerating.

Sighing deeply, you pick them up one by one. You have to be quiet for fear of disturbing the woman passed out in your room. You find yourself becoming resentful, bitter. You are not allowed to mourn the way she does. There are no broken rants about the time you spent with him. Nothing about the loss and emptiness you feel now that he's gone. 

It's not allowed. Best friends don't mourn each other the way one would mourn a dearly loved spouse. You are not what she is to him. What she was. 

In reality, neither of you are anything anymore. 

**day 78**

Ryan Bergara is presumed to be dead, not by the police, but by everyone who knew him. 

**day 79**

No sign of abduction. He couldn't have run away. But there is no body. 

You will continue to believe in his return. 

**day 94**

Sometimes you see the figure of your best friend. Sometimes that figure stands at the edge of your bed, hands reaching for your own. 

It is not malicious, he is not angry.

Somehow that just makes it worse.

**day 132**

It seems like she has moved on. She cries a lot less, has less shadows haunting her face. For her, the pain had receded like waves on the beach. 

You say you're happy for her. She's a strong woman, of course she can get through this. 

But you can't help but feel bitter. She gained his love in what seemed like only a few weeks, but now she's able to forget it just as quickly. Your jokes become a bit too scathing, your words cutting too deep. 

Soon enough, she stops speaking to you. 

You should feel guilty. You don't.

**day 146**

You're still the same person. Same ridiculous height, same fear of spiders, and in all the videos you've filmed, you have made sure to laugh as loudly as the rest, to smile just as wide. 

No one notices the way you stare at the corner of the room for a few seconds too long. 

They can't see the shadows, and you hope they never do. 

**day 167**

Your coworkers laugh as they entertain the idea of the haunted apartment next door. You laugh along because even after all this time, you still don't believe in ghosts. If there truly were lingering spirits of deceased loved ones, then you would have seen him a long time ago. 

Or maybe, you think, a little drunk on the extra shot of vodka you had, that just means he's still alive. 

They turn to look at you, and you shake your head. 

“That's bullshit. If that kind of place is haunted, then so is my grandmother’s shoe closet.”

**day 179**

It's three a.m. There's no logical explanation for why you're standing in front of the kitchen window, staring out at the sky. 

There's the static again. It seems louder now, more anxious. More desperate. You can almost make out words. It sounds like the spirit box, as if it were some sort of twisted joke.

You put on music loud enough to get you angry notes from your neighbors in the morning.

**day 185**

It's a testament to your determination, the fact that you have yet to declare yourself a believer. You're stubborn, sometimes to the point of stupidity. 

So why, you ask yourself, are you standing in front of a fortune teller’s booth at some weird little witch festival? 

You enter without hesitation. 

*

As expected, she doesn't know a thing about your life. She said you would find a sweet girlfriend soon, but obviously that isn't going to happen, with or without him in your life. 

There was one moment when her eyes seemed to glaze over and she mumbled something about voices in the wind or electricity, but you decide to ignore that. 

**day 203**

The noise is maddening. There is no calm before the storm, no eye of the hurricane. It's a twister that starts without warning, and you are swept away. 

This is love. This is holy. This is an eternity bathed in the blood of stars. This is the final judgement of the sinners and the saints. There are no pearls on the doors to heaven, so you think you've reached the gates to hell instead. 

He reaches out to you from between the bars, and you are tempted to take his hands between your own. 

*

You wake up sweaty, heart beating like you've just finished a marathon. You don't know what you're running from. 

**day 224**

Best friends shouldn’t make each other worry, you think. But that was then and this is now. You’re not sure if you can even call yourself a friend anymore, not when he is lost so far away. 

**day 242**

Ryan Bergara was, quite possibly, the greatest friend you've ever had. 

**day 245**

With every passing day, you become more and more certain that he is gone from your life. 

Surprisingly enough, you have not cried about it yet. 

**day 259**

You wake to the sound of furious tapping on your kitchen window. The birds are here again, and they are angry. 

**day 273**

You no longer hear his voice in the static. It just sounds like muffled screams.

**day 285**

Sometimes you wish you lived on the east coast. Here, there are no seasons. Just an endless summer, always enduring and burning even as the months go by. 

It's October, but it doesn't feel the way it should. 

You used to be jealous of the kids in Halloween movies. The ones who lived in suburbia, where the sky would become a stormy grey, and honey colored sweaters were brought out of the closet. The ones where pumpkins sat near the front door without rotting, and the children believed in things that hide in the corners of their eyes.

You were never afraid, and you think that still hasn't changed. Much. You remember saying once, in a video that feels like a past life, that you wished you could be a believer like him. That you could be so swept up in the horror and mystery like he was. 

Sometimes wishes come true in unexpected ways. 

**day 292**

It's early in the morning again. You wake up too soon, and there is no coffee. 

The TV is all static, silent and deafening. Slowly, carefully, you turn to look at it.

Inside, there is a hand reaching for you.

You blink, and there is nothing.

*

You go out to buy coffee.

**day 311**

You no longer sleep very well. 

The screams keep you awake at night, especially because you're not sure who they belong to.

**day 321**

Once, just once, you get on your knees and pray.

**day 344**

The birds stopped singing long ago. They even stopped tapping impatiently on your windows. Now all you see is their eyes at night, almost tinted red by the streetlights behind them. 

They are disappointed.

**day 350**

The shadows in the corner of your ceiling have stretched to cover the whole wall. 

**day 359**

You loved Ryan Bergara, as a coworker, a confidant, a friend, and you don't know how it ended up like this.

**day 363**

Devastation doesn't even begin to cover it when you finally snap.

**day 364**

You have decided that you are nothing without him.

You remember when you used to go to the beaches and walk along the line where ocean met sand. You liked watching the way it moved back forth, ever flowing and changing. It made you feel things you're still not able to fully comprehend. Just like him.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

**day 365**

The last time anyone saw Shane Madej, it was Christmas Eve.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want a happy ending, here's an alternative day 365.
> 
> day 365
> 
> You wake up back in your bed. It's not what you expected. 
> 
> There's a knock at the door. Your heart begins to beat faster. Your footsteps seem to become louder and more frantic. 
> 
> You open the door. 
> 
> The first time you see Ryan Bergara in over a year, he is wearing one of your sweaters and gives you a tired but beautiful smile. 
> 
> The birds finally fly away. 
> 
> *
> 
> If anyone is curious about the symbolism/meaning in the story... there is none. I have literally no idea what drove me to write this, if it's even good, if it deserves to be tagged as horror, or what the actual fuck happened to Ryan and eventually Shane.
> 
> I also feel really weird writing RPF, but this exists now and I can't take it back. 
> 
> LATE DISCLAIMER : The girlfriend in this is NOT Ryan's actual partner, because I don't want to disrespect her by portraying her as someone who does not actually love Ryan as much as she appears to. So the girl is just some random nameless person. And, Shane does not have any romantic relationships in this one. Also I hope the actual BFU guys NEVER even HEAR about this work of trash.
> 
> *  
> Please keep Ryan Bergara safe.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
